Part 1: How To Be a Friend To Someone Who Is a Widow or Who Has Had a Miscarriage
I am blown away by how many of you are reading this blog! I have several things I wanted to write about that I was trying to decide on, and this week I decided to write a letter to you about how to be a friend to someone who is a widow or who has had a miscarriage. This will be a two part letter, so I will post the second part next week. Since my experiences deal with being a widow and with losing a child, that is what I will be drawing from. The following list is the things I need after experiencing the losses in my life. For me, this is how you love and support someone who is a widow or who has lost a child by miscarriage.
I Need Confidence – Before experiencing loss, I was a very confident person. I could make decisions easy and quickly, and make the right decision, and move on. Since June of 2013, I have been so uncertain about everything and very “wishy-washy” with my decision making. I change my mind A LOT! I need confidence that I am making the right decision, even if it’s clear that I am making mistakes. The one person that I draw confidence from is my dad. Every decision I have made, especially the first few months after Mark passed, he has always said to me, “Dietrich that is a good idea.” I even remember changing my mind on something once, and he still told me that my new decision was a good idea. I realized then that he was trying to tell me that I was going to be okay on my own, even if he didn’t realize what he was doing. Even if my decision was a mistake, he gave me the confidence I needed to make a decision and accept the responsibilities of those decisions.
I Need Honesty – I remember the first person who was completely honest with me after Mark died. Everyone was telling me stuff to try to make things better and cheer me up, to smooth over the tragedy, pain, and shock of my situation. Within 8 weeks, I had given birth to a child and watched my husband suffer painfully through his last days on this earth. When people would say, “At least Mark isn’t suffering anymore” or “He’s in a better place” or “At least you have your son to remember Mark,” I wanted to punch them in the throat and say, “At least you can still breathe through your nose!”
It was so refreshing to hear someone acknowledge the tragedy I had experienced and the difficulties that were ahead of me. And that honesty came from one simple statement from my family doctor, Ryan Pettit. Dr. Pettit did a lot for Mark at the end of his life, from constant blood work, to treating the side effects of Mark’s medical condition, sending information to the liver transplant team in Birmingham, admitting Mark to the local hospital when needed….you name it, he did it. I know he was at a loss on what to do for Mark a lot of the time, because Mark had such a complicated medical condition and so many different things interacted with Mark’s medical situation. I had a doctor’s appointment and went to see him after Mark passed away. When he came into the room, he said to me, “I don’t know what to say to you.” That one simple statement, that one statement of true honesty, lifted my spirits more than the “fluff” that everyone else was saying. Someone acknowledging that there were no right words to say to make everything better was so uplifting…..acknowledging that my life was messed up and broken. It’s okay to not have the right words…..I actually prefer it when people say they don’t have the right words.
I Need Validation – I have received validation along the way, but my most recent experience was from my mom. I have struggled from time to time with my miscarriage. I sometimes think that I shouldn’t be sad and should be “over it” by now, especially now that I have a child. I sometimes think that I shouldn’t still struggle with this loss, because I lost this child early into the pregnancy at 8 weeks. And then about two weeks ago my mom said probably the most important thing she has ever said to me. She acknowledged that loss and acknowledged the miscarriage as a child. There have been days where I’ve wanted to scream at people, scream the name Mark gave this child, and scream that this loss is just as painful as losing a spouse. Many days I feel like everyone has forgotten about this child, Faith Hope Schaefer. And then my mom acknowledges my pain and hurt, and gives me the validation I need…..that someone else remembers my loss, and that someone else acknowledges that a child was lost, and that the loss of that child matters.
I Need Companionship – I didn’t just lose my husband. I lost my best friend. I lost the only person in this world I felt completely free to be myself around. He was home to me, and my home is gone. My life companion is no longer here. In general, I am not a lonely person. I am actually a very happy person, but I experience many lonely moments. Many of these lonely moments include: driving home to an empty house, eating a meal at the dining room table by myself, lying down in bed by myself, waking up by myself, laughing at memories I have of Mark, and then realizing in the next moment that there won’t be new memories. I often wonder what our new inside jokes would be if he were still here.
At this point in my life, I don’t feel nearly close with anyone like I did with Mark, but I like to be around other people. I like meeting new people and having mindless chit-chat. I like being around the friends I have, enjoying their company, and getting to know them more and more. When offered, I have tried to take people up on every single invitation that I have been given. Sometimes I have later declined because I am having a rough time, but I always accept another invitation later or try to reschedule because I don’t want people to think I am blowing them off. I can be difficult to read or understand sometimes, and some people have given up on me. That’s okay….I can be a complicated mess sometimes, and I am not mad or upset one bit at the people who stopped trying. They don’t understand what I’m dealing with, and many times I don’t understand myself. But I will say that I greatly appreciate and cherish the people who haven’t given up on me, who have continued to invite me over or out for dinner, and who have continued to be my friend and loved my child as their own.
To be continued next week…….
I am blown away by how many of you are reading this blog! I have several things I wanted to write about that I was trying to decide on, and this week I decided to write a letter to you about how to be a friend to someone who is a widow or who has had a miscarriage. This will be a two part letter, so I will post the second part next week. Since my experiences deal with being a widow and with losing a child, that is what I will be drawing from. The following list is the things I need after experiencing the losses in my life. For me, this is how you love and support someone who is a widow or who has lost a child by miscarriage.
I Need Confidence – Before experiencing loss, I was a very confident person. I could make decisions easy and quickly, and make the right decision, and move on. Since June of 2013, I have been so uncertain about everything and very “wishy-washy” with my decision making. I change my mind A LOT! I need confidence that I am making the right decision, even if it’s clear that I am making mistakes. The one person that I draw confidence from is my dad. Every decision I have made, especially the first few months after Mark passed, he has always said to me, “Dietrich that is a good idea.” I even remember changing my mind on something once, and he still told me that my new decision was a good idea. I realized then that he was trying to tell me that I was going to be okay on my own, even if he didn’t realize what he was doing. Even if my decision was a mistake, he gave me the confidence I needed to make a decision and accept the responsibilities of those decisions.
I Need Honesty – I remember the first person who was completely honest with me after Mark died. Everyone was telling me stuff to try to make things better and cheer me up, to smooth over the tragedy, pain, and shock of my situation. Within 8 weeks, I had given birth to a child and watched my husband suffer painfully through his last days on this earth. When people would say, “At least Mark isn’t suffering anymore” or “He’s in a better place” or “At least you have your son to remember Mark,” I wanted to punch them in the throat and say, “At least you can still breathe through your nose!”
It was so refreshing to hear someone acknowledge the tragedy I had experienced and the difficulties that were ahead of me. And that honesty came from one simple statement from my family doctor, Ryan Pettit. Dr. Pettit did a lot for Mark at the end of his life, from constant blood work, to treating the side effects of Mark’s medical condition, sending information to the liver transplant team in Birmingham, admitting Mark to the local hospital when needed….you name it, he did it. I know he was at a loss on what to do for Mark a lot of the time, because Mark had such a complicated medical condition and so many different things interacted with Mark’s medical situation. I had a doctor’s appointment and went to see him after Mark passed away. When he came into the room, he said to me, “I don’t know what to say to you.” That one simple statement, that one statement of true honesty, lifted my spirits more than the “fluff” that everyone else was saying. Someone acknowledging that there were no right words to say to make everything better was so uplifting…..acknowledging that my life was messed up and broken. It’s okay to not have the right words…..I actually prefer it when people say they don’t have the right words.
I Need Validation – I have received validation along the way, but my most recent experience was from my mom. I have struggled from time to time with my miscarriage. I sometimes think that I shouldn’t be sad and should be “over it” by now, especially now that I have a child. I sometimes think that I shouldn’t still struggle with this loss, because I lost this child early into the pregnancy at 8 weeks. And then about two weeks ago my mom said probably the most important thing she has ever said to me. She acknowledged that loss and acknowledged the miscarriage as a child. There have been days where I’ve wanted to scream at people, scream the name Mark gave this child, and scream that this loss is just as painful as losing a spouse. Many days I feel like everyone has forgotten about this child, Faith Hope Schaefer. And then my mom acknowledges my pain and hurt, and gives me the validation I need…..that someone else remembers my loss, and that someone else acknowledges that a child was lost, and that the loss of that child matters.
I Need Companionship – I didn’t just lose my husband. I lost my best friend. I lost the only person in this world I felt completely free to be myself around. He was home to me, and my home is gone. My life companion is no longer here. In general, I am not a lonely person. I am actually a very happy person, but I experience many lonely moments. Many of these lonely moments include: driving home to an empty house, eating a meal at the dining room table by myself, lying down in bed by myself, waking up by myself, laughing at memories I have of Mark, and then realizing in the next moment that there won’t be new memories. I often wonder what our new inside jokes would be if he were still here.
At this point in my life, I don’t feel nearly close with anyone like I did with Mark, but I like to be around other people. I like meeting new people and having mindless chit-chat. I like being around the friends I have, enjoying their company, and getting to know them more and more. When offered, I have tried to take people up on every single invitation that I have been given. Sometimes I have later declined because I am having a rough time, but I always accept another invitation later or try to reschedule because I don’t want people to think I am blowing them off. I can be difficult to read or understand sometimes, and some people have given up on me. That’s okay….I can be a complicated mess sometimes, and I am not mad or upset one bit at the people who stopped trying. They don’t understand what I’m dealing with, and many times I don’t understand myself. But I will say that I greatly appreciate and cherish the people who haven’t given up on me, who have continued to invite me over or out for dinner, and who have continued to be my friend and loved my child as their own.
To be continued next week…….